


To Stand Before Death

by karameiwaku



Series: The Fear of Death [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, EWE, Gen, Limbo, Master of Death Harry Potter, Master of Death Tom Riddle, Mentioned Albus Dumbledore, Mentioned Ancestor Peverell, Mentioned Harry Potter, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, after the Final Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karameiwaku/pseuds/karameiwaku
Summary: Death examines the greatest coward to pass into its realm since... since the last time this same soul came through piece by piece. Once again, Death finds itself in a bind, required to offer a boon to the most self-destructive example of humanity to ever live, and the least deserving of redemption.
Series: The Fear of Death [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074095
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	To Stand Before Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VoidRealmer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidRealmer/gifts), [Dragonanzar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonanzar/gifts).



Fear of Death was possibly the single most unifying aspect of the divergent human cultures, with Death long accustomed to pulling its blithering victims kicking and screaming into the afterlife. But this cowering soul, scattered (as before) into so many pieces in an ultimately futile effort to avoid this very fate (again), radiated much more fear than typical. Centuries had passed since Death last encountered a soul possessed of so much terror, except this exact same soul some five decades before.

This soul offered Death a brief respite from the exigencies of its own monotonous existence, yet this soul also posed Death a problem. One of those pieces was (once again) joined with its newly entitled Master at the time young Potter attained that role (for the second time). That small fragment of a soul (yet again) shared in the power of mastery, though this terrified soul didn't understand any of what it happened to partake. To Death's amusement, neither did its new Master (this time). 

Careful destruction of the writings of Shadrach Peverell ensured none who gathered the Hallows would ever actually know enough to hold them for very long. His sons ignorantly divided their inheritance, and Death contentedly monitored its Hallows distantly, until they came together (both times) in the hands of an old man who failed to master the cloak and whose obsession hastened his own doom due to clever spellwork by the stone's most recent master. This very soul, in fact. Concerned (the first time), Death traced the cloak's link to a small boy with fierce energy, who would never give up the Hallow as it meant more to the child as a connection to his deceased father than as a legendary artifact. The old man would only ever fail.

Then, Death watched (in shock once, and once again with resignation) as that boy mastered the other two Hallows without touching them, and unwittingly claimed full Mastery to reach limbo. Death could not avoid its Master, especially given the odd circumstance of two Masters together, with one Master killing the other. Death glared at the unfortunate soul it had just painstakingly pieced back together (for the second time), and the soul cowered even more deeply into itself (as it did half a century ago). Death held an obligation to a small fragment of this soul, but need not be kind when fulfilling such a requirement.

"You fear me."

The shivering soul cringed.

"I don't have to take you with me. I could let you go back."

A small spark of hope (once again) briefly tinged the soul's radiance.

Death knew the soul was unlikely to speak any response. This one-sided conversation had taken much longer fifty something years before. "Take my hand if you choose to go with me. If not, I will return you to the living, bound in service to my Master."

The soul, as expected, did nothing.

Death smiled viciously. "So mote it be."

Death always enjoyed the ones who failed to bargain.


End file.
